


Home is where the Spark belongs

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Category: Transformers: Rescue Bots Academy (Cartoon)
Genre: Career Change, Difficult Decisions, Emotional Manipulation, Hinted Wedge/Hot Shot, Homecoming, Implied Scorch/Hot Shot, M/M, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: They were graduating! Everything was going great... and then an old friend showed up from Cybertron. Hot Shot had to question once more if being a Rescue Bot really was the right future for himself. Slight canon divergence from season 1 finale, "Best Bots Forever, part 1 and 2"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Home is where the Spark belongs

**C.M.D: I've been wanting to get back into writing for Rescue Bots, and now Rescue Bots Academy, for a while. Now that I'm getting a few minutes to sneak in some work, here is my very first RBA story! This is a combination of a plot that I was beginning to build while watching the series, and then when I watched the season finale and saw how many things it checked off on my list... Well, I figured I'd just blend the two, making for a more canonically accurate fic. In either case, I hope you enjoy.**

**xxx**

**Home is where the Spark belongs**

**xxx**

Scorch!

It was really his old pal, Scorch, here on Earth!

"Scorch!," Hot Shot shouted, bounding out of the simulator's active field. His old buddy caught him as they collided, the red youngling squeezing Scorch tightly. "I can't believe you're here all the way from Cybertron!"

"Yeah, well," the Cube pro-star chuckled.

Hot Shot interrupted before he could get much further, untangling himself from the yellow Autobot to face his teammates. "Hey guys, this is my buddy-"

"Scorch!," Hoist, Whirl, Medix and Wedge all chimed in at once. Their faces lit up, matching the quadruple-changer's exuberant smile.

"Hot Shot talks about you all the time," Wedge added, sounding jokingly annoyed. "You'd think he had a broken processor for how much he goes on and on about you."

"Wha-! I do not talk about him that much!," Hot Shot squawked, cheekplates burning with incandescent energon. He snapped his helm toward Scorch, servos swinging about in embarrassment. "Don't listen to him! I swear I don't talk about you that much!"

The yellow youngling only laughed again, a servo resting on his hip smugly. "I'm known as far as Earth, huh? That's kind of awesome," he said, casting a glance at Hot Shot. "Though if it weren't for your in-depth cube knowledge, Hot Shot, I somehow doubt any of these noobs could provide a single stat about the sport."

"Hey, what-" Wedge started, actually annoyed this time. Even Hoist, Medix and Whirl shared a look between the three of them. That comment had been excessively rude, not to mention horribly untrue.

"Anyway," Scorch continued, cutting off the front-loader, turning away from the other recruits and slinging an arm over Hot Shot's shoulders, "Why don't you show me around while we catch up, hmm? I mean, I came all this way; it's important to be hospitable, yeah?"

"U-um... yeah, sure," Hot Shot mumbled back, letting himself be led away from the group. It only took a few astroseconds before the bright smile from before was spreading across his face, the Cube pro-star having yet to remove his arm, as the pair exited out of Hero Hall.

"He didn't even say 'see you later'," Medix huffed, crossing his arms over his bumper, "I am absolutely appalled with Hot Shot's manners."

"Oh, I'm sure it just slipped his processor! He didn't mean it, obviously," Whirl replied, giggling. Her laughter quickly died down though as she paused, grasping one arm uncertainly. "I-i mean, it's his friend! From Cybertron! Who he hasn't seen in a long time..."

Hoist nodded, adding in his own two cents shyly. "Yeah. He's Hot Shot's old friend and we're his new ones... I'm sure we'll see him later for refueling."

A couple nods and half-sparked murmurs of agreement passed between the group from all except Wedge. He continued to stare at the door of Hero Hall, his frown drawing deeper. There was... something... about Scorch that he didn't like. Something that seemed dishonest about him. It was rubbing his circuits all the wrong way but the orange youngling knew he couldn't say anything- not without viable proof, as professor Chase had always taught them. Innocent until proven guilty.

"...Let's just go back to the dorms," he said to his teammates, brushing his unease aside for later, "We got a bunch of things to go over and more chores to take care of before the graduation ceremony in a few orns."

Hoist, Whirl and Medix voiced their agreement to that course of action; all four exiting the simulation room together.

**xxx**

"Sorry I haven't been in touch," Hot Shot started as they walked down the hall. He'd remained as silent for as long as he was physically capable, before he began to get anxious. It had been so long since he'd left Cybertron and his friends; equally as long since he thought to send a comm home and catch up with anyone. He'd never realized how wrapped up in Earth and the Academy he'd become until he saw Scorch entering Hero Hall. "T-they, uh, keep us pretty busy around here. I lost track of the time."

Scorch made an odd sound in his vocalizer, optics surveying the hallway disinterestedly. "Yeah. I noticed that," he returned flatly.

"U-um, yeah... s-sorry again. Didn't w-want you to think I forgot about you guys o-or anything," the red youngling repeated lamely. He stayed quiet for a few more kliks, pointing out a room here and there, trying to be a good host. Primus, why would he even say that to the yellow Autobot?! That was the worst apology in the history of Cybertron. He should just disconnect his vocalizer for good, right then and there. Eventually, he found his courage again and turned to the pro-star excitedly. "Oh, yeah! Did you see us in the Sim race? That was pretty awesome, right?," he chirped, chestplates swelling up in pride.

"I'm pretty strong, if I do say s-"

"Listen, Hot Shot," Scorch said, rounding on the quadruple-changer. Hot Shot stumbled, nearly falling before he caught himself, looking up at his companion with confusion. Scorch tried not to sigh as he opened his mouth to speak again, yet he did nothing to cover up the disdain in his tone. "That whole... Sim, thing, might have been fun but that wasn't any sort of _real_ competition. It wasn't even a challenge. It was a sparkling's circuit course in a game room. I don't see how you could possibly be proud of that."

Immediately, Hot Shot deflated; his optics dropping to the floor as they started to dim.

Scorch thought the race had been... silly?

A servo touched on his shoulder plating, causing the red youngling to look up. He couldn't even fake a smile to match the one Scorch was wearing now. "Hey, c'mon. Don't look so glum," the pro-star comforted. "So, your lil' race wasn't anything like Cube. That's no reason to be so hard on yourself. Nothing here is like Cube. Nothing here is like _you_ , Hot Shot."

"I...I d-don't understand...," Hot Shot mumbled.

Scorch sighed, straightening up and pulling the quadruple-changer closer to his side. "Listen, buddy, you have so much potential! You're an ace Cube player: you've got the guts, the reflexes, the drive...," he spoke near his comrade's audio, a servo waving dismissively around the hall. "Honestly, you're just burning it all away, sticking around in a dead end like this. You belong back on Cybertron. You belong with the 'Cyber Blazers'."

Each of the yellow youngling's sentences had punctured Hot Shot's spark deeply, until his helm was hanging low. He'd had a lot of fun here at the Academy, after struggling the first few weeks, and he thought he'd found something great here with his teammates but... Was Scorch right? Was this really a cop-out for the quadruple-changer. He had been one of the greatest of the new generation of Cube players, and even now, his spark still hummed for the love of the game... Yet he couldn't do that here. Not at the Academy. He barely had enough time to unwind and play a few rounds of video games after a long orn of classes and chores. Not to mention none of his new friends would play Cube with him; not that they were any good at it. He was supposed to be graduating in a few orns, moving up to the next tier in his education...

Had he really wasted a whole Earth year at a school that would be the death of him, social and career-wise?

His helm snapped upwards at the words "Cyber Blazers" though, Hot Shot resetting his optics and vocalizer in unison. "W-wait... what? 'Cyber Blazers'? You mean your kick-aft team? The one that reached the championship finals! Congrats on that, by the way," the red youngling commented, feeling excited again. "It's so awesome that you got there!"

Scorch chuckled richly, releasing his companion for the time being, arms propped on his hips in traditional arrogance. "Thanks. Not that it's needed; I know I'm the best after all. But, alas, we're a player short," he sighed.

Hot Shot hurried to catch up with the pro-star as he started walking, engines rattling in disbelief. "You guys? A player short? How'd that happen!?"

"Nothing happened," Scorch replied, "I just decided that you'd be a better fit for the team. You are after all the greatest Cube player around... besides me, of course." He stopped, facing the red Autobot fully, playfully jabbing at his chestplates, cocky grin back in place.

Hot Shot rubbed lightly at the spot Scorch grazed, feeling his plating warm to the touch in that area. His processor was still reeling at the sudden proposition, torn between ecstatic, confusion and... dare he say it... a hint of fear. "Scorch, I'm flattered, but..."

An optic ridge lifted critically on the yellow youngling's face, him leaning in a few inches towards the other Autobot. "But what? C'mon- these are the _finals_ we're talking about here. Do you remember all the nights we burned out in the practice fields, reciting to each other all we'd do -everywhere we'd go!- when we made it to the big leagues and took the cup home?," Scorch said seriously, grasping Hot Shot's shoulder again. "Do you remember any of it at all? All the time and struggles... This place is holding you back from achieving that now, Hot Shot. This is your moment!"

His lip component caught under the edge of his denta, Hot Shot looking away ashamedly. "But, I... I'm already a part of a team now...," he tried to argue, "The Rescue Bot team." He couldn't admit, not even to himself, that playing in a championship finals was his dream. Had always been his life goal. And now here it was, so close to becoming a reality -held up by a dear friend that he'd turned his back on, on Cybertron- and yet he hesitated because of Optimus Prime's dinky little social project?

"Yeah. Your fellow 'recruits'...," Scorch tsked disapprovingly, removing his servo. "Those chums are the B-team. Side-liners. Second best. That's the least respectable place to be. The Hot Shot I know was only A-team. All the way."

A servo caught his chin as the quadruple-changer began to look away, drawing his face forward, optics locking with Scorch's intense ones.

"The finals are not for a few orns time. I don't mind waiting, just tell me you'll think about it," the yellow youngling urged gently. "This is your _future_ we're talking about here, Hot Shot."

At the kind words, the red youngling shivered momentarily, finding a processor ache was beginning to form in his helm. He couldn't deny that his friend was right; this was about his future... But did it have leave him feeling so lost as to what path he was meant to follow?

"Hey," the pro-star chuckled, releasing the other's chin with a soft tilt upward, "Don't burn yourself out trying to make a decision here and now. I'll need you at full capacity for the finals. For now, let's just go burn some steam with a few rounds of Cube. Hm?"

"U-uh, su-sure," Hot Shot choked, trying not to blush again. He was getting easily flustered this orn. Too easily. "Let's, uh... Let's go to the game field. This way." Hurriedly, he led them through the curving Academy halls, missing the tight smile that flashed across Scorch's face quickly before disappearing.

**xxx**

Hot Shot was late for their nightly refuel.

Scowling, Wedge wandered down the Academy hall, noting that this had been the second orn in a row that his teammate had forgotten about the others. He was too busy hanging out with his 'buddy' Scorch, obviously... Just saying his name made his pistons heat with rage! What the slag did Hot Shot see in that blowhard?! He was rude, arrogant, a bully to drones -he even had the audacity to say that the work they did was pointless, all because they didn't have their faces and names plastered all over Milford! If it wasn't for Academy rules (and his friends present), Wedge would have decked the Cube pro-star for that last comment.

"I just- Grrrrr!," the front-loader growled, stopping for a moment in the middle of the hall. He wiped his servos down his faceplates, trying to reign in some of his anger. "Gotta calm down, gotta calm down... I'm just collecting Hot Shot for recharge. No need to be mad at him, he's not the jerk... Surprisingly."

Sure, in the beginning the red youngling's ego and his need to constantly be the centre of attention grated every one of his circuits, the following decacyles working in a unit had really humbled the quadruple-changer. Hot Shot still pulled foolish, self-serving stunts here and there, but those were becoming far and few between; nowadays, he actively sought the support of his friends to pull off a successful mission, his jokes and light pranks becoming an amusement to all, not just himself. Scorch clearly was all of Hot Shot's bad traits from before and double that. The sooner he left, the sooner Hot Shot would stop kowtowing to that aft and return to the recruit that they all adored. Wedge couldn't wait for that orn.

"-of your team?," a vocalizer wafted suddenly down the long hall. Scorch's vocalizer.

In a momentary panic, Wedge quickly ducked into the nearest open doorway, pressing quietly out of sight so as not to be seen. A few astroseconds later, Hot Shot and Scorch were walking casually past the orange youngling's hiding place.

"Like what, exactly?," Hot Shot said, looking at his partner curiously.

Scorch scoffed lightly, flicking one of the quadruple-changer's audios. "Well, your doc-bot is duller than a sentry drone, and the blue one could use some extra spinal struts, so obviously I know everything there is to them," he replied, "But what about the copter one? Whirl, you said, right?"

"Um, yeah. Whirl." Hot Shot shuttered his optics, making a bit of a face at the mention of her. "What about her did you want to know?"

"You like her?," the pro-star asked, leaning into his companion's face, lip components pulled into a smirk. At the question Hot Shot's cheekplates coloured darkly; even Wedge felt his face warm up considerably.

It wasn't wrong to think of Whirl as attractive. As the only femme of the group, she had the tinier, slimmer build and her bubbly, seize-the-orn attitude really stuck on your processor as well. Everybody just sorta naturally fell in love with Whirl shortly after meeting her. But what exactly was Scorch getting at, bringing her up?

...And what did Hot Shot think of her?

"I-i... We... S-she's my friend!," Hot Shot eventually blurted out, shoulders hunching about his audios self-consciously. "I l-like her -n-not like _that_ I m-mean!- and she's kinda cute, s-sure, but u-uh... Umm... S-she... She doesn't like me that. Besides, it's against the Academy rules to date teammates!"

Scorch made a sound in disgust as the red youngling took a couple steps back, crossing his arms over his chestplates. "Seriously? They even took that away from you too?! Primus, Hot Shot...," he grumbled, "Since when is it a crime to date a friend or two? Back on Cybertron, you could have dated anyone you wanted in the league or out. In fact, I know of a couple 'bots that you _did_ date for a while!"

"Well, i-it's-," the quadruple-changer tried to explain.

The yellow youngling didn't give him a chance to finish. Optics flared brightly as Wedge watched Scorch pin Hot Shot to the wall, the pair lip-locked for several astroseconds. The kiss only ended when the pro-star pulled back a few inches, Hot Shot's face darker than it had been previously.

"S-scorch?!," he choked, servos trembling against the wall. Still, he didn't even attempt to push away his old friend.

"How can you stand it," the other youngling whispered, a servo sliding down his companion's hip before suddenly cupping his codpiece. Hot Shot gasped, bucking at the unexpected contact, "Denying yourself like this 'cause of a bunch of stringent, rusty codgers?"

The red Autobot stifled a moan when Scorch's fingers squeezed the plating between his thighs, finally grasping Scorch's forearm. "S-scorch, wha- N-not out here!," he whimpered.

Scorch vented irritably, pulling away bodily from the quadruple-changer. "Listen, I can't stay any longer. The finals are in a couple orns; me and the gang are going to get some more practice in before then. I meant everything I've said since I've got here, Hot Shot. I," he added softly, "Would greatly appreciate seeing you more often. I hope you can have an answer for me before tomorrow."

Hot Shot tried to look up at the pro-star, but his optics kept dropping to the floor repeatedly; legs still slightly agape and trembling from his friend's assault. "Okay," he answered equally as soft, "I-i'll... I'll have an answer then."

Scorch smirked. "Good. You should probably head back to your room; you've got a curfew, don't you?"

The red youngling nodded silently, pushing himself up and hurrying down the hall. He paused though, just before turning the bend, to cast an uncertain look back at the other Autobot. A wave from Scorch and Hot Shot smiled awkwardly, finally disappearing.

"...it's not nice to spy, you know," Scorch stated loudly.

Wedge stiffened as the yellow youngling turned on the spot, his insufferable smile greeting the recruit. Seeing as he was found out, the front-loader stepped out from the doorway, fists curled tightly at his side. "What the slag are you doing to Hot Shot?," he demanded, memory archives playing the last few astroseconds of the scene that had just taken place.

Scorch cocked his helm at the question, that smirk lengthening into a sneer. "I don't see what's it to you, _Decepticon_."

Wedge froze, his ire stepping back for a moment to let fear step forward. "I-i- Your m-mistaken!," he mumbled, engine stuttering in response.

"Oh really?," the pro-star continued, his tone mocking, "So you're not Wedge the construction-bot? The one that Optimus Prime gave personal pardon too? The same Wedge that went on to win a local contest just to grab a free ticket off-planet?" Scorch spat in contempt. "If you're going to lie, then you should learn how to do it right. Primus, you're a slag Decepticon."

"St... Stop calling me that!," Wedge yelled, taking a step toward the other mech. "I am not a Decepticon. I am an Autobot; I am Wedge, the rescue recruit!"

"Whatever," Scorch returned, rolling his optics.

"You better stay the frag away from Hot Shot," the front-loader went on, taking three more pedesteps, until he was suddenly face to face with the yellow youngling. "I don't know what slag you're up to-"

"What," the pro-star needled, getting up in Wedge's face also, his lip components twisted in a cruel smile, "Itching to get under his plating? You know he's an extra needy, lil' glitch, right? Craves constant attention and validation. That kinda 'bot rev your engine?"

The orange youngling blushed immediately, leaning back an inch. "NO! I-"

"Tough luck, Deceptiscum," Scorch jeered. "He's _mine_. He just needed a little encouraging to remember that. And very soon it'll be 'bye-bye' losers..." The yellow Autobot tipped his helm left and right with each inflection of his vocalizer, one servo waving in Wedge's face to the other's growing rage. "Maybe I should tell Hot Shot of your... less than ideal origins... just in case you try someth-"

Wedge bellowed as he threw himself toward Scorch, fist catching the startled pro-star across the chin. Scorch hit the floor hard from the force of the punch, optics snapping up in equal hatred at the orange youngling. But before they could continue their fight, a servo was grabbing Wedge by the tires and yanking him away from Scorch.

"Wedge!"

"P-professor Boulder!"

"S-sir, he just a-attacked me out of nowhere!"

"Why you lying gli-," Wedge snarled, attention whirling back to Scorch.

Boulder pulled the front-loader back several more inches, his vocalizer a firm fury as he said, "Enough!" Holding his servos up to protest, Wedge stopped; his teacher's disappointed, upset gaze making him drop his fists along with anything else he would have said.

"I have no idea what's gotten into you, Wedge," the bulldozer started wearily, "But this is not the behaviour I expect from a soon-to-be first year graduate. Not only that, but it's past curfew. You know that's against the rules."

"...yes, Professor Boulder...," the orange youngling mumbled.

"Head to the dorms, please. We shall discuss this further tomorrow morning. As for you," Boulder added, rounding on the arrogant Scorch now. The pro-star shuttered his optics in alarm at the chiding glance he was getting, crossing his arms again sourly. "You asked to return home to Cybertron almost half a cycle ago. It's rude to keep someone waiting, especially when we have other duties to attend to. So if you're done here, I believe it's time that you headed to the space bridge."

"Sure," Scorch replied tightly, standing up and rubbing lightly at his dented cheekplate. He sent a quick glare to Wedge while Boulder looked away, before turning at the rescue bot's prodding and heading toward the space bridge's room. A chastising glance sent Wedge trudging back to the dorms himself.

His engine was still vibrating under his chassis, molten hot with his hatred. That scum-sucking skidplate was jerking Hot Shot around, as if he were just another drone to bully. Made Wedge want to run back down the hall and keep beating in that nasty smile until Scorch barely had a recognizable face again -consequences be slagged! Yet the orange youngling couldn't turn around; that seed of fear had rooted itself well in his spark, and then there was the confusion... Hot Shot just... let Scorch mistreat him so. Encourage his direction without any question or concern. Did the red Autobot perhaps like the Cube pro-star?

A flash of melded mouths and an unhindered servo pressed against red plating crossed his processor quickly, causing his spark to flutter queerly.

**xxx**

They'd won! They'd really won!

Hot Shot took the helm pats gladly, beaming bright at his new teammates Mach and Glow, tossing the now-deactivated game cube back and forth in his servos. He -the Cyber Blazers- had just won the Cube Championship! Primus, it was a _literal_ dream come true!

"Hey! Hey, Scorch!," he cried, bounding to the sidelines where Scorch was receiving medical attention, "Did you see that? We won! We won the finals!"

The pro-star didn't seem very enthusiastic about the news. "Congratulations," he grumbled, "It looks like your 'team strategy' worked out for you, Hot Shot."

The quadruple-changer slowed to a stop beside the bench, his smile struggling to stay up on his face. "O-oh, well... I m-mean... It worked really well b-back at the Academy, a-and the professors a-always say a solid course o-of action equals s-success when-"

"By Unicron's beard!," Scorch cursed, shoving the medic away and standing up on his injured leg, "Are you really talking about that dinky lil' Earth school again? Why?! You _chose_ to come back here, Hot Shot. You chose to follow _me_!"

"Y-yeah, but you... y-you said you wanted me to come back," Hot Shot stuttered, feeling a chill frost over his spark.

"Of course I wanted you back here. I told you I wanted to win," the pro-star snapped, marching up into his companion's face, despite every cringe he made as he knocked his injured knee joint repeatedly. "I told you: I want to win. Winning meant having you here, playing _my_ game -the old Hot Shot and Scorch way. And we won, we've got the trophy; the glory should be enough to satisfy your attention-deprived aft. What? You need verbal validation from us too now?"

Hot Shot moved his lip components a couple times, feeling his optics start to gloss with coolant. "I-i just... You w-wanted to work as a te-team... A-and Wedge says-"

Scorch spat to the side, pinning the red youngling with a sneer. "Oh. Wedge now? You're bringing up that clunky loser? Are you, like, close buddies or something, Hot Shot?," he questioned cruelly. "Do you think Wedge is somehow better than me, is that it? Bet you don't know your 'super special pal' is actually a-"

Glow's servo shot out from behind Hot Shot, shoving the yellow youngling backwards and onto his aft. "Primus, Scorch, you're acting like a major exhaust port," she said dryly, scoffing as she glanced between the two mechs. "Were you hoping to drag Hot Shot here around on a lead, until you got bored of him and dumped him too?"

His processor was still trying to catch up with the sudden change of events, causing the quadruple-changer to respond to the femme's words a klik too late. "H-he... What?"

Glow turned to Hot Shot fully, her optics pitying but her mouth annoyed. "Listen, Scorch does this all the time. Finds himself a bot he likes, uses them as he pleases, then tosses them when he's done," she vented. "Normally he keeps fellow players out of it, but he's been gearing about you since the semi-finals. Even scared Rust off just so he could have his 'Lucky Shot'. I bet he lubed you up real good too, to make you drop whatever you were doing."

Mach made his presence known at Scorch's left, also grunting in ire. "Real fragging pathetic, Scorch...," he commented.

The red youngling reset his vocalizer, one, two, three times... yet still couldn't find the words to speak. Scorch... Scorch had twisted him all around, just to use him for his own selfish gain?

"But," the femme continued, resting her servos on the quadruple-changer's arm excitedly, "Seeing as how you actually came up with a brilliant plan to give us a full-lead advantage and win the Cube Championship, I think it's about time we ditch the one-bot show over here. Take the newly reformatted Cyber Blazers to the full-fledged league!"

"What?!," Scorch snarled from the ground, trying to stand but only exacerbating his injury, "The Cyber Blazer's are _my team_."

"Seriously, shut up," Mach grumbled, pushing the yellow youngling back down on his aft.

Hot Shot found himself staring at the dark cube in his servos for several, long astroseconds, then at Glow, Mach and Scorch last. He'd won... He'd really won the Cube Championship. The audience above was still cheering their team name, and the announcer was wrapping up some final game stats... Everyone waited for the Cyber Blazers to head for the centre dais and accept their trophy. But it wasn't a trophy that the quadruple-changer wanted anymore.

"I... I'm sorry," he started, smiling sadly at Glow and Mach, "I'm glad we were able to work together and win the championship but... But I don't belong here. I should have never come here." He paused, casting a betrayed glance at Scorch. "I need to go back where I really belong. Where I matter."

"Shame," Mach replied, shrugging.

"It really is," Glow added, sincerely, taking her servos off of Hot Shot's arm. "You would have made a slagging awesome addition to the team. But you're right; you're better off without this dead weight." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder plating at Scorch, before taking the game cube from the red youngling's servos. "Best of luck to you, Hot Shot."

"See ya," Mach said, shaking servos with the stunned Hot Shot.

A real smile climbing back on his face, Hot Shot gave the two players his farewells, ignoring Scorch and his final complaints as he grabbed his things, racing for the nearest space bridge centre.

**xxx**

Hot Shot had come back.

He had really returned.

The recruits stood gathered outside: Hoist, Medix, Whirl and Wedge on one side, Hot Shot on the other. Their expressions subdued, hurt. Hot Shot's equally withdrawn and regretful.

"I-i...," he opened his mouth to start.

"You left us!"

"That hurt so much Hot Shot."

"How could you?"

"You picked another team, Hot Shot," Wedge seethed, servos tightening into fists at his side. As relieved as he was for his friend's return, grief still pulled at the front-loader's spark. He never would have thought the quadruple-changer could honestly fall for Scorch's obvious tricks; he never thought that Hot Shot's betrayal would yank his emotions in so many directions.

"After all we've been through... For you to do just that," the orange youngling continued, ire growing stronger in his tone. "What'd you think? That we'd just accept you back with open arms?"

"Wedge, wait...," Whirl whispered softly on his right. Even Hoist and Medix looked at their teammate uncertainly, yet didn't vocalize their fears. Not that Wedge would have addressed them if they had.

Instead, he continued to stare down Hot Shot angrily, wanting to punch his so-called friend just as much as- But then, the red youngling was turning away from them again; his helm hung low, refusing to fight against Wedge's words. The sight frightened Wedge. Primus, he'd sent Hot Shot off the first time with kind words and a hug, just trying to be the better mech under Scorch's watchful optic... and yet here he was, scaring his friend off because of his conflicted emotions?

"Wait!," the orange youngling called out, before anyone else could, "W...Where are you going?"

Wedge watched, intakes stalling as the quadruple-changer looked back shyly, optics still dim and downcast. He didn't think twice about it; the front-loader spread his arms wide, hopeful and a little uneasy. Would their teammate just keep walking? A smile appeared quicker than lightning on Hot Shot's face; astroseconds later, warm plating filling Wedge's servos as red arms wrapped around his own chassis. Air churned oddly through his vents as his intakes reset suddenly, the orange Autobot tightening his grip on his friend in relief.

"I'm sorry for bailing out," Hot Shot mumbled as the others wrapped their arms around the pair. Slowly, they all entangled from their embrace, the red youngling glancing at each of them in turn, landing lastly on Wedge. "I... This is where my spark belongs."

Wedge felt his own spark give an unnatural, little flutter at the words.

"Yeah!," Hoist cheered behind him.

"We are a well-established unit," Medix added.

"And don't you forget it," the orange youngling managed to vocalize eventually, poking gently at Hot Shot's emblem. The quadruple-changer chuckled lightly at the touch.

"C'mon, c'mon!," Whirl squealed, grabbing as many servos as she could. "Let's get inside already! We're graduates tonight, remember? We need to celebrate!"

A round of jovial cheers passed around the group as they gathered together into another tight hug.

**C.M.D: Obviously, Scorch wasn't such a jerk in the show... But if the series wasn't made for very young children, he certainly wouldn't have had quite the quick moral turn around as he did. Anyways, this will be start of a few related fanfics so keep an eye out if you're interested and thanks for stopping by.**


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